Reconciliation: The Robin Returns From Winter
by AJCrane
Summary: While investigating a new group in Gotham City for the past year, Batman is not only injured, he is poisoned and is dying. An old friend comes to his aid, and Dick Grayson must come to terms with the past or lose Bruce Wayne forever in death and to the darkness of his soul.
1. Chapter 1

Part 1: Pain and Memories

He made a rookie's mistake, letting his anger get the better of him. Had he not told Robin the same thing? Assess the situation, don't go in blind, but his mind had been elsewhere and, he was angry. Angry with himself for allowing everything he had worked for, had trained for had been turned against him so easily. Thoughts of another time invaded his mind as he fought to keep his equilibrium to return home. It was the argument, playing out its destructive din. It had been three years. He had hoped that by now, Robin would have come back, but both men were stubborn and prideful, a dangerous combination for emotional destruction. Something that blinded Batman to the truth, that Dick Grayson was no longer his little Robin Red Breast. And because of it, Batman had allowed his own emotions to cloud his judgment, to allow the darkness to stream forth in a torrent, a darkness that he had kept at bay for many years. And that allowed others to control the situation.

The images continued to play like a child's forgotten toy. Bruce should have seen it coming, but he didn't want to let go of the young boy who had worked his way into his heart. The boy who had left for college came back different, older, independent, a man in his own right. Through various channels Bruce had kept track of Robin's exploits, proud with each passing day that Dick Grayson was truly making a name for himself, but sad at the same time. It meant he no longer needed him. At Hudson University, away from the city and away from Batman, he was building his own life, and his own reputation as a crime fighter. It was as it should be, but Batman was too stubborn to see it. He only saw the mistakes and that's what hurt him the most.

All Batman could see was the young child that became his sidekick, not the partner he had originally envisioned. Maybe it was because Robin still had not developed that edge that should have sent fear into the criminal element. Batman felt he was too cocky and laid back for his own good. Or was it because he wanted Robin to be more like him, and yet didn't he try to protect him from becoming just that? Obsessed with revenge and filled with an all-consuming anger? And so they argued, and not just any argument, it turned ugly where they nearly came to blows. The next thing he knew, Dick had moved out completely, taking everything that he ever owned, leaving everything that Bruce had ever given him. Bruce also found out that Dick had left the University not re-enrolling in the program he started and disappearing without a trace. The final blow came when Bruce found Dick had not taken his Robin costume. It had broken not only Batman's heart, but Alfred's as well. The house became as dark as the Batcave, and nothing more than a mausoleum, as Dick had put it once.

So Bruce and Alfred moved out, closing up the house. He dare not sell it because of what was underneath, but kept his options open. They moved to the penthouse suite on the top floor of Wayne Enterprises, but it wasn't the same. They tried to set up shop, but the Board of Trustees questioned his decisions about the extra equipment, which threatened to expose his secret identity. A year later, they were back at stately Wayne Manor, dusting off the old equipment and replacing some of it with the latest technology. It felt like coming home, but there was still one piece missing.

As his thoughts returned to the present, he became more aware of the wounds he received despite his bullet proof costume, Batman put the batmobile on autopilot and directed it to return to the batcave at best possible speed. He knew he was losing a lot of blood and he needed Alfred desperately.

"Alfred," Batman pressed a button that automatically connected to the batcave. "Alfred, I need you."

"Master Bruce?"

"Get your medical kit ready, though I think I'm going to need more than that."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"I can feel my temperature rising."

"Do you think you will need a doctor?" Alfred asked.

"I don't think a doctor can help. I think I'm going to need help from other quarters."

"Other quarters? What do you mean, sir? Help from whom?"

At that moment, static broke the line . . . " . . . can find him. It's been . . . a long . . . time . . ."

"Master Bruce, I did not catch the person's name. Repeat, sir."

"Call Commissioner Gordon," Bruce stated. "Give him a message . . . " Bruce did his best to give Alfred the message.

'Commissioner Gordon . . . but,' Alfred thought to himself. Bruce must be delirious. What did he say, find a what? Suddenly he sensed someone was behind him. He turned to see a man with gray shoulder length hair, wearing a brown fedora and carrying a brown leather satchel.

"Master . . . sir," Alfred stated. "He's, he's here."

"He's . . . there?"

"Yes, but . . . I do not know how . . ."

"Don't try to figure it out, Alfred. Just . . . just . . . " Bruce slipped into darkness allowing the batmobile to take him home.

Continues With Part 2: Caine Comes to Gotham City.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2: Caine Comes to Gotham City

Alfred hung up the phone and turned toward the stranger. He was reluctant to reveal what he knew since he did not know how much this stranger knew about Master Bruce. Still, his charge was injured, and Bruce was going to need his help.

"Where is he?" the stranger asked.

Alfred turned toward the stranger and saw a deep concern that told him much. At one point in Bruce's young life, this man had become important to him. Even so, Alfred wasn't sure what he should do.

"Please, he needs my aid. Only my knowledge will save him."

Alfred debated with himself on the issue. His knowledge? Why not the knowledge of a doctor? They were trained after all. Then Alfred realized the doctor might compromise Bruce's identity. Should he or shouldn't he. What if he decided wrongly and Bruce died. 'You must decide now. Master Bruce's life is at stake.' Alfred said to himself. "Come with me."

Alfred led the stranger down a little used hallway and approached an old grandfather clock that no longer worked. He opened the face of the clock and moved the hands until they pointed toward 12:00. An audible click could be heard and the clock swung outward and a stairway was revealed. The stairway had not been used in years. Though there was an elevator in another part of the manor that led down to the batcave.. For the moment, this was the expedient way to get to Bruce.

"Hurry, he will be coming any minute."

"What is this place?" the stranger asked.

"You shall see," Alfred replied.

They reached the bottom of the very long stairway just as the batmobile entered the cave and parked itself on its special carousel. Alfred waited until the vehicle was facing toward the exit to approach.

"Quickly," Alfred said as he rushed forward and opened the door.

Batman slumped over into Alfred's strong waiting arms. "Bring that special gurney," Alfred instructed.

The stranger found what Alfred wanted and brought it to the injured man, curious why he was wearing a mask.

Alfred lifted Batman as best he could with the assistance of the stranger and placed him on the gurney. They wheeled him to the medical area and Alfred began stripping Batman of his costume to find out the extent of his injuries. Bruce's body was a mass of bruises. Then Alfred saw the blood that had been pooling up within Batman's costume. He could see not just one gunshot wound, but three. The bullets would have to be removed. Alfred grabbed his medical instruments and began working as swiftly as he could. One of the bullets was partially lodged in his skin and wasn't as bad as he feared. The second was deeper, and Alfred feared it had nicked an artery. It was the third one that also had him worried, but when he looked at the wound, it wasn't what he thought it was.

"That does not look like a gunshot wound," the stranger observed.

Alfred re-examined the third wound. "That's because it's not. It came from some kind of dart. I've seen such wounds before," Alfred did not want to comment further as to where, fearful of what the implications might mean. "There must have been more than one person involved. They must have distracted him long enough to fire the dart, but where is it? It would have lodged in his suit, but it's not here."

"Perhaps in the vehicle?" the stranger stated.

"I shall look there later. His wounds need to be taken care of first."

Alfred removed the rest of Batman's costume except the cowl. His reluctance to do so was because of the need to protect the identity of this man that he loved so dearly, not so much as an employee of this man, but like a father protecting his son.

"Should his mask not be removed to check for fever and for any other injuries?"

"You mean head wounds?"

"Yes."

'I cannot. His identity must be protected. Only one other knows who he is."

"Please," the stranger pleaded gently. "I swear on my office, my oath, I shall not reveal who he is." The stranger then pulled up his sleeves.

Alfred took in a breath at what he saw. What was this man? Alfred questioned to himself. 'You are wasting time,' he thought. 'The Master could die.' Alfred gave one more sigh as he fumbled with the bandages and compresses to stop the bleeding after removing the bullets. "Very well." He would have to deal with the consequences later. As Alfred removed the cowl, he heard the sudden intake of breath come from the stranger.

"I know this man," the stranger stated.

"How?" Alfred asked looking over the stranger's appearance. It was difficult to imagine the stranger running in the same circles with his charge, especially with what the man was wearing and what marred his arms.

"He was a student of mine, some years ago."

"A student? What did you teach?"

"Kung fu."

Alfred was surprised. The stranger didn't appear to be a martial artist, not by today's standards.

Suddenly, Bruce came to and curled into a ball, pain deeply etched on his face.

"What is causing the pain?" Alfred asked, perplexed. "The bullet wounds were not as life-threatening as I feared." Alfred watched as the stranger placed a hand over the wound made by the dart and closed his eyes.

"He has been poisoned," the stranger stated.

"What?" Alfred quickly grabbed a syringe and drew some blood. He placed a sample on a slide. He them placed the sample in a special drawer then punched some buttons on the panel. Within seconds information appeared on a nearby screen.

"I do not recognize the poison," Alfred stated. "It's not listed in the database."

"Not all poisons are known," the stranger answered.

"If we don't know what this poison is how can we find the antidote?"

The stranger took on a far away look. He obviously knew something that Alfred did not.

"I shall find the antidote. Poisons such as this will require the right herbs."

"Then you know where this poison comes from?" Alfred asked.

"Yes."

"Who are you?"

"A Shaolin priest. I am Caine."

Continues with Part 3: Nightwing Vision


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3: Nightwing's Vision

Dick Grayson put on his Nightwing costume and headed out for patrol. It was like any other night except something was nagging him. Ever since he became Nightwing this past year, something didn't feel right. Oh he managed to apprehend several of the criminal element, a drug lord who's sick agenda included the youngest members ever to be recruited, a madam who's high paying hookers stole more than just the money from their customers, to a faceless madman who's crimes reminded Nightwing of the Joker. They called him the Prankster. Within a year, Bludhaven's streets were no longer filled with the screams of fear, but with the laughter of happy and contented citizens. Bludhaven was becoming more like the sleepy town it had been when first envisioned by its founders almost 200 years ago. And it was on another uneventful patrol that Nightwing was realizing that Bludhaven was not like Gotham City; and that made Dick Grayson feeling homesick for the first time in years.

Dick Grayson had turned 10 that year. It was the beginning of summer and they just squelched a crime spree by a new villain. Dick saw the flier in the Gotham Gazzette. The Haly Circus was returning to Gotham City and they were planning on staying for three weeks, the longest any circus had stayed in one place. A new aerial act had been added. They had their own tricks, but none could do what Dick and his family could do, the quadruple spin. Dick remembered pleading with Bruce to let him go.

"They were my family, my circus family."

"What if I need you?" Bruce asked.

"I'll take my come link and my Robin costume if there's trouble. Maybe I can show their new aerial act how to do the quadruple spin."

He had been so excited about going, but little did he know, after just a few days, the knots that formed in his stomach weren't just from the exercises and the somersaults he had been doing. Memories of his parents and their death became too much. The memories were just too fresh and with the time he spent with Bruce and Alfred, Dick realized he needed more than just what the circus provided. The routine of family, and Bruce and Alfred had become his family.

As Nightwing's thoughts returned to the present tears were streaming down his face. Those memories, though old, were still strong in his heart. Lately, he couldn't seem to get his act together, even though he had succeeded in capturing several criminals. Something in his heart was tearing him in two, though he tried to deny it. Then the pain came, striking Nightwing with such force that it nearly toppled him from the building. In the past year, visions and dreams had haunted his thoughts. It was as if something was telling him this was wrong, very wrong.

In those visions he continued to relive the final argument that he and Batman had before he left. It still bothered him, and they still had not spoken to this day. The visions and dreams changed, and he saw another face enter the picture, a young lad slightly older than when he had become Robin. This new Robin ran at Batman's side, but the look in Batman's eyes did not hold the same warmth as they held for Dick. The visions grew more terrible and frightening. Nightwing saw the new Robin taken by the Joker, lured into a deadly trap by the use of a hostage. He saw the Joker beat the new Robin to the point of death. Broken and bleeding in a dozen places, the Joker set his final trap for Batman. The bomb was to go off when Batman opened the door, but Batman got there too late. The bomb exploded just as Batman arrived on the scene. Nightwing watched in horror as Batman tore through the rubble and uncovered the new Robin's lifeless body.

"NO!" Nightwing's shouting brought himself out. Previously, he witnessed countless other visions, of Bruce becoming dark and terrible, more monster than crusader. And now this new vision, the loss of a new Robin tore at him.

'A new Robin?' Nightwing thought. 'Are these visions of the future? Is Batman really turning into this monster? And is he planning on replacing me? And Bruce, what's happened to him?'

The thought was just too unreal. Only Alfred would know. 'But how could I go back to being Robin? I can't be a kid again, but if I don't go back . . .'

Nightwing shivered. He recalled the first time he had visions, days just before his parents died. He dismissed them as merely bad dreams, but now . . . maybe they weren't. He had several others while with Bruce as well. He never told him about them, now he wished he had. Then a memory, when he was 11, he'd forgotten about it.

'Bruce told me about him years ago. He said he was a Shaolin, someone whom he could talk to about a lot of things, even about dreams. I remember doing a research paper about the Shaolin, but I didn't find much, just that they were Buddhists and martial artists. Bruce did tell me his name. It was unusual, a Chinese name mixed with an American name. But I can't remember. Also learned something else. Only thing is, how do you find a Shaolin that doesn't stay in one place very long?'

Continues with Part 4: Connections From the Past


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4: Connections From the Past

"A Shaolin priest?" Alfred asked. Before he could get more information Bruce cried out in pain, again. "What is happening to him?"

"The poison is making its way through his system. For now, it is causing the spasms. It will begin to eat through the muscle tissue and then the organs. I must find the cure before the poison reaches his heart and destroys him."

"You said you need herbs," Alfred started.

"The herbs I need I must gather myself. They are rare and only found in wooded areas."

"Well, we have plenty of woods around Wayne Manor."

"I shall return."

"What did you say your name was, sir? Alfred inquired.

"Caine."

Alfred watched the man move, faster than he expected. He turned to his charge and in a quiet voice asked. "Who is this man, Master Bruce? What is he to you? And why have I not known about him until now?"

Kwai Chang Caine swiftly left Bruce Wayne's side and in the company of Alfred Pennyworth. He knew the man from Bruce's description, a man who seemed ageless. There was something about Alfred Pennyworth that even Bruce Wayne didn't know, that Kwai Chang Caine could sense, but it wasn't his place to reveal it. Some day, Alfred would have to tell Bruce Wayne, but for now it was up to Kwai Chang Caine to save his former student and to find those responsible for what they did.

Caine thought on the moment when he sensed the pain of the man who wore the mask of the bat. He had not known the identity of the person until he saw him in that bat cave. He had come to Gotham's Chinatown seeking solace from dreams of his son, and the great beam that fell on him and another child. Coming to Gotham he hoped to find someone to ease the pain of those memories, but Chinatown in Gotham wasn't the place he expected it to be. Crime and corruption ruled its streets, as well a group of Chinese gangs he heard only in whispers, Scorpion Clan. No one knew much about them, except their specialty was using various poisons, and the most deadliest known to man. Their trademark poison was one in which it would take days to kill, and Caine recognized it's symptoms immediately. It was the way his beloved wife looked before she died.

Caine could not help recall those agonizing days, how the poison contracted her muscles, sending spasms through her body. How each organ began to shut down, blood seeping through her skin, and finally mercilessly; her heart stopped ending her ordeal, and his. Caine protected their son from ever seeing the torture that racked his Mother's body. From the time the poison entered her system to the day of her death, it took five days. Kwai Chang Caine must find the antidote within the first 72 hours or lose Bruce Wayne forever.

Thoughts of Bruce Wayne came unbridled in his mind. He remembered meeting the tall chiseled featured young man when he was in his teens. Caine had been on the Berkley Campus. He had been practicing his kung fu forms. A crowd had started to gather, watching the impromptu demonstration. When he had finished, after the applause the crowd dispersed except for the young man, more boy than man, but something in the young man's eyes had caught Caine's attention as well.

"Can you teach me to do that?"

Caine turned toward the speaker, spying the young man.

"Why do you wish to learn?"

The young man looked like he wanted to say something else, but thought better of it. "So, I can protect myself and defend those who may be harmed."

Caine thought about what the young man said. "What was your first answer?"

The young man's face flushed, betraying his age, and something else.

"I thought as much," Caine gave a slight smile. He sensed the anger and deep pain hidden under the surface. The young man had gone through some sort of trauma, aging him beyond his years. Perhaps there was something he could teach this young man, patience being one thing. "Lesson number one," Caine suddenly moved with the swiftness of a crane striking with its beak to catch a passing fish. "Always be aware of your opponent at all times, and where he may strike." Caine opened his hand to reveal the fly that had landed on the young man's shoulder. The fly was still alive, it's legs caught between Caine's fingers. He released it back into the air. Caine was also impressed that the young man had not flinched, but kept a steady eye on him.

"My name's Bruce Wayne."

"I am Caine."

Caine observed that Bruce Wayne turned out to be a very quick study and an excellent student, learning everything that Caine could teach him about kung fu within three years. Bruce even saved Caine's life once. Caine was saddened when Bruce moved on, but by that time Kwai Chang Caine had a new wife and son. Both were gone, and Bruce Wayne needed his help. He prayed that it would be in time.

Continues with Part 5: Finding A Shaolin in a Hay Stack


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5: Finding A Shaolin in a Hay Stack

"Master Richard, I finally reached you." Alfred said on the phone. "You must  
come home. It's urgent."

"Alfred, I can't. I'm in the middle of something," Nightwing replied.

Please, . . . It's . . . Master Bruce.

"What is it?" Something in Alfred's voice caused concern.

Alfred explained, and Nightwing felt his stomach drop. His blood ran cold as  
if someone had pored ice water into his veins. The search for the Shaolin would  
have to wait. "I'm coming home."

Bludhaven was three hours from Gotham City; a fact that did not escape  
Nightwing's notice.

`Why didn't I go straight to Metropolis,' he thought. Nightwing knew in his  
heart why, but he couldn't voice it. Because of Alfred's announcement, thoughts  
of Bruce and their last argument came in with the force of a winter storm,  
freezing him deeper than Mr. Freeze ever could. `Bruce's right. I behaved  
badly, letting my own pride get in the way. Bruce used to be more open, but  
after I left for college, he changed, becoming distant, moody, and hard. Why  
didn't I see it? He used to appreciate my help and when he didn't say anything  
I should have realized something was wrong. It's no wonder we argued. If only  
he would have said something. Even sock me in the mouth for the things that I  
said. And now it may be too late to take it back.'

*

Alfred did not like to see Master Bruce in pain. Too many times Bruce would  
come home from his crime fighting with wounds that he could not explain or  
wouldn't let a doctor examine. It was as if he was punishing himself. Luckily  
for Bruce, Alfred had worked as a medic in the war, though he still dreaded the  
day when he would not be able to help, and Bruce Wayne could die. He feared that  
day had finally come. Alfred gazed out the window that overlooked the ancestral  
lands of the Wayne family. Over 1000 acres surrounded the estate, the size of a  
small regional park. In fact, the property butted up against the parkland that  
contained a single mountain peak that used to be part of the Wayne property.  
Property in which the family had made its first fortune in precious metals, much  
of it put to industrial use.

Alfred knew the history of the Wayne family, and some of their secrets, but not  
all. Alfred watched as he spied Caine entering the woods behind Wayne Manor.

`Who is this Shaolin priest and why didn't Master Bruce tell me about him?' he  
thought. He made a mental note to ask once there was an opportunity to do so.  
For now Bruce needed his help. The sun would be rising in a couple of hours and  
he would have to inform the Board of Trustees that Bruce would not be available  
for at least a week. He knew they would balk at this because of some serious  
negotiations in progress. Bruce was a shrewd businessman and an excellent  
negotiator. Still all that will have to wait while Bruce recovered. Alfred  
did not want to think about the worst-case scenario.

Alfred opened the door to Bruce's bedroom and sat in a chair by his charge's  
bedside. He moved Bruce up from the batcave so he would be more comfortable.  
It would also lend credence to his story if someone from the Board came calling.  
Alfred watched as Bruce tossed and turned, his temperature had climbed to 103,  
and he could see the pain etched in Bruce's face. Alfred said a silent prayer  
to the priest in hopes that he would find what herbs he needed as swiftly as  
possible.

*

Kwai Chang Caine walked out into the woods behind Wayne Manor. The plant that  
he was looking for was very specific. And oddly enough, it fit with Bruce  
Wayne's chosen secret way of life. The plant, though, was not easy to find.  
It only bloomed at night and was pollinated by fruit bats. Thus its common name  
the bat plant. It is rare in these parts, but not unheard of. Where there  
were bats, the plant was often found just outside cave openings where bats  
roosted. It was discovered that bat flowers and its fruit helped to neutralize  
certain poisons, especially poisons derived from scorpion venom, but what was  
scorpion venom doing in Bruce Wayne's system? There were no scorpions in Gotham  
City, unless the Scorpion Clan was involved. They must have done this, but  
why? Kwai Chang Caine could not fathom why such a clan would be in Gotham.  
Gotham City was a magnet for various gangs and the underworld element. Right  
now, Kwai Chang Caine had to get the flower and what fruit he could find back to  
Wayne Manor before it was too late for Bruce. It was too late for his wife,  
and too late for his son. Caine had a chance to save a former student and he  
was going to take it.

Continues with Part 6: Memories of Home


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6: Memories of Home

Dick Grayson drove up the long driveway to Stately Wayne Manor. A few lights were on, strategically placed making the old mansion look like a ghost in the night. The place looked like it hadn't seen laughter in a long time.

'Maybe since I moved out,' Dick thought, an unintended insight. 'If my visions are true, then Bruce and I need to talk. Neither one of us can move forward with so much anger between us.'

Dick parked the van and approached the front door. He didn't know if he should knock or use his key. That was the one thing he did keep. Not by his own choosing, but from Alfred.

"You must take it, Master Richard. In case you change your mind or if something should happen."

"What's going to happen, Alfred?" Dick had asked.

"You do not know what this will do to him," Alfred replied.

"What it will do to him? What about me?"

Dick remembered the hurt look in Alfred's eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I have to do this."

Dick did not hear Alfred's final reply.

"This is your home. And always, will be."

Dick shook the memories from his mind and pulled the key from a hidden pocket. He was nervous just the same. He didn't even know if the key would fit after all this time, if Bruce decided to . . . He didn't want to think about that. Even so, the key represented home, and if it didn't fit, then he would know just how Bruce felt about him, and that would be that.

Dick put the key in the lock. It fit but would it turn? He heard the deadbolt turn and breathed a sigh of relief. He had not realized he was holding his breath. As he opened the door and stepped across the threshold . . .

"Master Richard . . ."

"Alfred, it's good to see you. Where's Bruce?" Though Dick could see that Alfred was happy to see him, once he asked about Bruce, his whole demeanor changed.

"He is in his room."

"Thanks"

"Your old room is waiting for you."

Dick didn't know how to respond, but nodded instead.

"I'll move your vehicle into the garage and take your things up to your room."

Dick handed Alfred his keys and walked up the stairs to his old room. He walked around, letting pleasant memories surround him. The large painting of his parents the Bruce had commissioned still hung above the small fireplace that graced his bedroom. There were so many good memories, but the bed ones seemed to overshadow them. For a moment, he sat on the bed and his foot brushed up against something on the floor. He looked under the bed and found an old stuffed animal that Pop Haly had given him when he visited the circus that one summer. He picked it up and placed it on the nightstand. Realizing he was stalling for time Dick swallowed the lump in his throat, left his bedroom and headed down the hall. He entered Bruce's room, much like when he was a boy, shy and uncertain on what he would find. He walked toward Bruce's bed and was shocked at what he saw. The strong, confident man that Dick was familiar with was gone. The face was racked with pain and beads of sweat were on Bruce's brow, evidence of the fever that racked his body.

Dick sat on the edge of the bed and took Bruce's hand in his. Surprisingly, the strong grip that was so much of who he is was still present. Dick could see blood seeping through his mentor's fingers from his nails digging into his flesh. Tears rimmed Dick's eyes, threatening to spill at any moment.

"I'm sorry, Bruce," Dick stated, nearly choking on his words from emotion. "I can't help feeling that somehow this is my fault. If I hadn't left . . ."

"It is not your fault," an unfamiliar voice said.

"Isn't it? I wasn't there to watch his back . . . wait a moment, you're not Alfred."

Dick turned to see a man standing in the doorway, gray, shoulder length hair, eyes piecing, and yet gentle.

"Who are you?"

"I am Caine."

The name should have been familiar, but Dick could not place the memory. "What are you doing here? Dick suddenly became defensive.

"I came to help my student."

"Student?" Dick looked down at Bruce, then back at the stranger. "How do you know Bruce?"

"He was my student a long time ago. He saved my life once. I am returning the favor. I must find the antidote to the venom. Then I must find the ones responsible."

"What do you mean, find the ones responsible. Are you some kind of crime fighter?"

"No. A Shaolin priest."

Dick's eyes became wide when suddenly remembering his own search for a certain Shaolin. Was this the same priest? How? The questions forming in his mind would have to wait. Dick watched as the priest approached on the other side of the bed and placed a hand on Bruce's forehead.

"He is in a great deal of pain, but his temperature is holding. He has great inner strength. Even now he is fighting the poison. I must prepare the antidote."

Dick followed the man intrigued and yet uncertain. "Bruce should be in a hospital."

"Would you wish it to be known how he acquired his injuries? "

The question caused Dick Grayson to wonder what Caine knew, as he followed the priest down the stairs. He kept following him until he reached an old grandfather clock and watched with horror as the Shaolin priest turned the hands until they pointed toward midnight. The clock base suddenly moved and Dick realized just where that opening led, the bat cave, and that means, 'HE KNOWS!'

Continues with Part 7: Unmasked


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7: Unmasked

Dick rushed after the man as he moved swiftly down the hidden staircase. He wanted answers. He grabbed the man by the shoulder, but he slipped his grip.

"WAIT! How long have you known that Bruce . . ."

"How long have you known?" Caine cut off Dick with his own question, his eyes piercing and knowing.

Dick let his arm drop. "I've known since I was eight years old. And since you know Bruce is Batman, then you must know that I'm Nightw—"

"You are not."

"What?"

"In your heart, you are not," Caine stated.

'How did he know?' Dick stared puzzled at Caine's.

"You shall never be who you are meant to be unless you face the past and rid yourself of the anger within. You must make a choice, a choice that will effect not only yourself, but Bruce as well."

Dick was silent after that. He stood there for a moment and continued to watch the Shaolin as he moved further down the stairs and into the batcave.

"In order to produce the antidote, I need a sample of the venom. The dart must be found."

"I thought you had the cure?" Dick asked, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"I do not. I must know what the venom contains to know how the antidote must made. Each poison is different for each person. We must find the dart."

"I could go back to the scene of the crime, but I wasn't in Gotham City when . . ." Dick swallowed his guilt, ". . . when it happened. And Bruce is in no condition to tell us."

"The vehicle may hold a clue," Caine suggested.

"You'd make a great detective. Now why didn't I think of that," Dick said with sarcasm that was lost on the Shaolin.

"Your mind is occupied by other matters."

Realizing the Shaolin was right, Dick resigned to stay focus on the problem at hand. "I'll check the batmobile, you get working on that antidote," Dick moved to the vehicle uncertain that he could even open the car door. Bruce may have changed the password. Five years ago, Batman changed the locking mechanism to a voice activated system. There was any number of passwords that were built in. Any one of them could open the vehicle except for one added precaution. The mechanism would only recognize three voiceprints, Bruce's, Dick's, and Alfred's. If anyone else's voice were used, the password alone would not unlock the vehicle. It was an upgrade from the last antitheft devices. And even if someone managed to get around the voice activated system, the old ones were still in place.

Dick approached the vehicle's driver side. "Grayson526." The driver's side opened with a chick, to his relief. Bruce had not changed at least that password. It was forever imprinted in his mind. It was the day his parents had been killed. Dismissing the thought, Dick searched the vehicle. Wedged within the side of the seat and the center panel was an odd looking dart, one designed to look like a bullet.

"Found it!" Dick shouted.

"Do not touch the end of it with your hands. The venom is strong enough to seep through the skin."

"How do you know?"

"I have studied the properties of this particular venom," Caine answered. "It is what killed my wife."

Dick grabbed a surgical glove and lifted what was left of he dart out of its hiding place and placed it in a small metal pan. He placed the dart in a drawer and pressed some buttons.

"This old bat analyzer still works. I'm surprised Bruce still has this."

After a few moments a card emerged from a slot.

"It's scorpion venom, but there's other ingredients I don't recognize," Dick stated.

Caine came over and read the card. "It is as I feared. The venom has been altered making it more deadly. The flowers and the fruit may only slow the worst of it."

"Flowers and fruit?"

"From the bat plant," Caine replied.

'Figures,' Dick thought, but stated instead,"I'll have to read up on it."

Dick remembered something from his past, something that Bruce always tried to teach him. "We can't give up hope. I'll continue to analyze the venom and see if any antidote can be found. Maybe if we analyze both the flowers and the fruit we might find something more."

Without realizing it Dick fell back into the role of the partner and realized at that moment, exactly what he was missing. As Nightwing, in Bludhaven, he worked alone. And though the work was satisfying enough, he always felt like something was missing, that camaraderie of working with someone toward a common goal or cause.

"I'm going to need the flowers and the fruit," Dick stated.

"I must make a tea, but I believe I can spare a small amount of both. I shall ask . . . what is the gentleman's name?"

"Gentleman? Oh, you mean Alfred. Sure. Just go up to the kitchen. This analysis may take a while. I'll let you know when I find anything."

Dick watched the Shaolin place one flower and one small fruit on a nearby table then walked back up the staircase leading into Wayne Manor. Dick didn't understand when and why he started trusting the Shaolin. Perhaps it was because of his past association with Bruce. Even so, what the man said had unnerved him. It was as if he knew about his visions.

Dick took the time to set up the analyzer, again, this time keying in other parameters. Not only did he key in the property of the venom found in the dart, he keyed in the properties of the bat flower and its fruit. Linking the two he programmed the analyzer to find the missing components to the antidote. The result was going to take several hours to complete, precious time that they did not have. For now, Dick hoped that the Shaolin's tea could at least buy them some time.

Continues with Part 8: Revelations From the Past


	8. Chapter 8

Part 8: Revelations From the Past

Dick wandered around the batcave seeing the changes that had been made. 'Bruce sure has been busy. Wish I had some of this stuff.' He came upon the medical area and found what was left of Bruce's costume. Looks like Bruce will have to have another one made. Something on the cape caught his attention and he picked it up and examined it. Not like Bruce to be sloppy. Looks like he may have picked up some dirt from somewhere.

An hour went by and Dick walked over to the analyzer to check on its progress. It was still trying to figure out the missing ingredients. Dick grabbed a wrist monitor connected to the bat computer and set it to alert him. It was no use sitting in the bat cave waiting for the analyzer to complete its work. His thoughts kept returning to the argument that he and Bruce had and the comment made by Caine.

'Well, I'm not going to get any answers sitting here,' Dick thought. 'Might as well go to the source.'

Instead of taking the stairs, Dick took the bat pole back up to Bruce's study. He was surprised to see Alfred sitting in one of the tall wing back chairs. Never had he seen the man look so worried.

"Alfred?"

"Master Richard, I did not expect you to come from the batcave. I thought you would be with Master Bruce."

"I was helping Caine find the antidote to the venom," Dick replied. "Alfred, what happened?"

"I don't rightly know myself," Alfred stated. "Things have not been the same since you left. Master Bruce doesn't consult me the way he used to."

"I gathered that. You're a valuable member of the team," Dick stated. "You would help us whenever we needed it. That's not like him to leave you out."

"I know, and that makes it that much harder to understand. When you left, I tried to reason with Master Bruce, but he would not have any of it. 'Let him leave,' he had said. 'He's got to work it out himself.' But I could see Master Bruce was very upset. He tried to hide it, but I could tell."

"What's really happening to Bruce."

"It is not my place to interfere between you and Master Bruce, but when you left, Master Bruce changed, becoming obsessed in his work as . . ." Alfred couldn't say it. "There is a darkness in him, a darkness you never saw. And I fear that darkness has re-immerged."

"I don't understand. That's not the Bruce that I know," Dick reminded Alfred.

"Before you came to the house Master Richard, Bruce covered up that darkness by pretending to be the playboy so no one would suspect his duel identity, but it has always been there, lurking underneath."

"I remember Bruce being moody, not being around that much when I first came here except to train me or to be at Wayne Foundation. I don't remember him doing anything else. I never saw a lot of women here."

"Master Bruce stopped all that when you became a member of this household. It would not have looked good if there were women visiting or staying here."

"Yeah, I guess so. I was just his ward," Dick remembered. Except it didn't feel like that early on." He remembered feeling more than just a commonality of their goal in fighting crime, and more than just a deep friendship between them. It was like Bruce had become a . . . he dare not say it lest he betray his memories of John Grayson, his father. He kept that part bottled up inside, not certain if he should have voiced it. Yet, there was one question that still nagged him to this day. "Alfred, why did Bruce take me in?"

"Master Bruce told me once that he did not want you to make the same mistakes he did. He did not want you to suffer the way he had suffered, becoming filled with hatred and wanting revenge."

"Filled with revenge? I don't understand," Dick stated.

"Like you, he witnessed his parents' murder, but he did not have someone to guide him through the worst of his anger," Alfred stated.

"Didn't he have you?"

"No, he did not," Alfred answered. "There was a housekeeper at one time, but from what I learned, young Master Bruce did not make things easy. I returned when Bruce reached his teen years, and by then the darkness had nearly consumed him. It took all of my efforts to make him realize that taking revenge was not the answer."

"Then you did help him," Dick pointed out.

"Only to redirect his efforts. Master Bruce needed more help than I could provide."

"Then who helped him?"

"I thought that was obvious," Alfred said, staring at Dick.

"What . . . what are you saying? That I helped him? How? I thought Bruce only thought of me as his ward and that . . ."

"Oh Master Richard, during your first two years you were with us Master Bruce wanted to do more than have you as his ward, but the state would not agree to it."

"You mean, but I thought, I mean I remember the first six months . . ." Dick couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"That was true Master Richard, until you became very sick. You should have seen his face then. I never thought anyone would work their way into his heart the way you did."

"Into his heart? I don't remember very much of that time," Dick replied.

"It was soon after you and Master Bruce had taken down mob boss Tony Zucco. You became quite ill with pneumonia. I feared you would have to go to the hospital, but Bruce wouldn't hear of it. He felt very responsible and blamed himself. He would not leave your bedside until you were well."

"Wait a moment, I do remember after that Bruce was around a lot more, trying to teach me all kinds of things. I also remember him being less dark and brooding. Do you mean to tell me that I really had something to do with that? That I actually —"

A loud beeping noise interrupted their conversation. Both turned toward the red phone that sat on Bruce's desk.

"Odd, that phone has not been used in a long time." Alfred stated.

"Only Commissioner Gordon and Chief O'Hara knew about that phone," Dick stated.

"Not any more. Commissioner Gordon retired and Chief O'Hara was killed by the Joker last year."

Dick was surprised at the news. He had been so busy in his own little world he hadn't realized that events in Gotham City moved without him. "Why didn't someone tell me."

"I tried Master Richard, but you could not be reached."

The bat phone continued to beep out its notice. Without another thought, Dick Grayson picked up the phone and listened to whoever was on the other line. He was soon hanging up the phone.

"What is it Master Richard?"

"Commissioner Gordon's dead."

"Oh no, it can't be," Alfred exclaimed.

"Commissioner Montgomery wants Batman to investigate."

"Did he say how Commissioner Gordon died?"

"He was poisoned, by a dart."

Continues with Part 9: A Robin Take Wing


	9. Chapter 9

Part 9: A Robin Takes Wing

"Batman cannot investigate," Alfred stated. "He's in no condition to do anything."

"Commissioner Montgomery is expecting Batman," Dick stated.

"You cannot go in as Batman. He would know you to be an imposter."

Dick turned to see the Shaolin priest standing in the doorway. "You were listening?"

"Not intentionally," Caine replied. "I gave him the tea. He must have the full antidote within 24 hours."

"My wrist monitor hasn't alerted me yet on the other ingredients. How often does he need the tea?"

"At this stage, every two hours."

"I can provide him with the tea, so long as I have enough of it on hand," Alfred stated.

"He is asking for you," Caine said, his eyes boring into Dick's.

"I didn't think he knew I was here."

"Go to him. There is time."

Dick Grayson rushed from the study and up the stairs taking two at a time. He rushed into Bruce's bedroom and moved to Bruce's side.

"I'm here Bruce."

"You really did come. It wasn't a dream."

"I'm here. Alfred called me. He told me what happened."

"I was getting so close to stopping them . . . I didn't watch my back."

"Please, Bruce, don't talk."

"I need to, the bat phone . . ."

"How did you . . ."

"Have a light rigged to go off . . ." Pain caused his muscles to spasm once again, but this time, the tea had eased some of the worst of it. "Tell me. What does Montgomery need?"

"Commissioner Gordon was found dead."

"What!" Bruce suddenly tried to get out of bed. "That's impossible. I must get to the batcave."

"Bruce, you're in no condition to help."

From his weakened state, Dick easily pushed Bruce back against the pillows.

"Need . . . " Bruce's voice was soft and Dick almost didn't hear him.

"Need what Bruce."

"Need . . . you . . . old Chum. Need . . . my partner," Bruce closed his eyes and fell asleep, not before squeezing Dick's hand.

"Bruce."

"The tea will act as a sedative as well as start to cleanse his body of the poison. He must rest," Caine stated.

Dick's eyes were rimmed with tears. He needed him? Had he heard right? He has not heard those endearing words in so long. 'Old Chum, that's what he would call me.' Dick thought. 'He hadn't said those words since before our argument, and before I went to college.' Dick looked down and saw that Bruce 's hand still gripped his, and would not let go.

'He needs me,' Dick thought.

Dick looked into the face of his old mentor and saw a tear slowly tracking down Bruce's cheek. He reached up and brushed it away. 'I've never seen him cry before.' Dick said to himself. An argument ensued within his mind and heart.

'That's because he didn't want to appear weak.'

'Weak? In front of me?'

'In front of the villains, you dope.'

'Why?'

Dick knew deep in his heart. It was the only possible answer. And it was staring him in the face. 'Alfred tried to tell me. It's because Bruce loves me isn't it. He's more than just my mentor, my partner, even my guardian. He's been a second father, in all ways but one. It may not be written with paper and ink, it's been written with something far more costly.' Dick looked down at Bruce's other hand and saw the answer. 'It's been written in blood.'

And Dick knew right then that it was true. And he knew what he had to do.

Dick leaned in close so only Bruce could hear him, speaking the one word that Bruce had waited so long to hear, and Dick so long to say. "Don't worry, Dad. I'll take care of everything. You can count on me." And he meant it. Only then did Bruce release his hand. Dick raced down the stairs and into Bruce's office. He flipped up the head on the bust revealing the hidden switch that opened the sliding bookcase and raced to the bat pole with his name still attached to the pole. Taking that pole and hitting the switch meant one thing. Batman needed another. Batman needed his partner. When Dick reached the bottom it wasn't Nightwing that emerged, it was Robin.

Stepping off of the cushioned platform, Robin raced to the batmobile. Climbing into the driver's side, he realized there was someone sitting next to him in the passenger seat.

"Caine, what are you doing here?"

"I am coming with you . . . as back up?"

Robin gave a side ways grin. "Then you better buckle your seat belt. It's going to be one wild ride."

The story continues in:

The Scorpion Sting


End file.
